


Cracked Porcelain

by heartofgreen



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Domestic, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-23
Updated: 2013-01-23
Packaged: 2017-11-26 13:47:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/651134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartofgreen/pseuds/heartofgreen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John's mishap in the kitchen shatters more than a teacup, and he catches a glimpse of the emotions roiling beneath Sherlock's polished facade.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cracked Porcelain

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Although I'd like to, I do not own the rights to Sherlock Holmes.

           The flat was blessedly silent. Then again, most flats were at half six in the morning. 221B Baker Street wasn’t like most flats, however, and John Watson found the unusual quiet permeating his home a bit disconcerting. John shuffled into the kitchen with only the promise of a good cup of tea spurring him on. He began his ritual of preparing tea. The process of making the beverage soothed John almost as much as the brew itself. He set a mug (a worn red one that had been in the cupboard for as long as he could remember) on the counter and turned on the kettle. As he reached for a bag of his favourite breakfast blend, John was jarred awake by a loud shattering noise. “Oh, bloody perfect,” he grumbled, reaching for a broom. It was going to be a long morning.

\-----

            By 9 am, John had showered, dressed, and settled himself on his favourite recliner with his laptop and a cup (pale blue with tulips on it) of tea.

            “Idiots.”

            Sherlock shut the front door and began to divest himself of his coat and scarf. John heard him hold back a sneeze.

            “Jesus, what happened to you? D’you get attacked by a chalkboard or something?”

            “Brilliant John! Yes, I’ve become covered with this white powdery residue because I’ve had a scuffle with a teaching tool. Excellent detective work.”

            “No need to be stroppy, it was just a guess. That stuff’s not toxic, is it?” Although encountering hazardous materials was now as commonplace in John’s life as evenings in watching crap telly, he winced at the thought of spending yet another afternoon quarantined at St. Bart’s.

            “No, just some flour,” said Sherlock wearily. “Mr. Miller thought that he could halt my pursuit by filling one of his industrial mixers with flour and turning it on full speed. I’ll admit, the resulting cloud of flour was a slight hindrance.”

            “Did you catch him?” John’s question earned him an eye-roll. “Okay, so you caught him. But how?”

            “All in due time, John. I must get some tea. My mouth is as dry as the Sahara from all of that flour.” With that, Sherlock strode into the kitchen.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not new to the fandom, but this is my first fanfic! Any constructive criticism/feedback/Britpicking is welcome!


End file.
